


Gavin's On A Leash

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, they knew what they were getting themselves into with that video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't ask how it happened."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gavin's On A Leash

Alcohol shrouds Gavin’s vision, giving everything and everyone that drunken fuzzy edge. Just beyond his sight he can usually hear the fuzz surround people’s words and - if he’s got a real good buzz going - he can sometimes even sense it in the air. As he lets himself sink back onto a bench he briefly wonders if it’s actually he that is fuzzing at the edges in this equation.

But he forgoes the train of thought when he feels the collar of his shirt shift unusually, as if something’s tugging on it. His reaction speed has been so slowed by beer that by the time he figures out how to navigate his hands behind his head, the mysterious pulling has stopped. And then suddenly Gavin's scrambling to his feet, desperately clawing at the constriction on his neck as it pulls him unmercilessly from the bench.

“Come on, Gav, you’ve been assigned!” a voice calls from the other end of the dimly lit backgarden.

A cool night breeze sweeps through the patio as Gavin approaches it, but he is unable to stop and appreciate it. His hands swipe at his neck as he stumbles along, coughing and spluttering. He quickly locates the culprit; a length of string pulled taught, looped around his neck and attached onto itself by a metal clasp. His fingers fumble with the cold steel but his mechanical functions are warped by liquor, the clasp’s catch just managing to elude his grasp.

Multi-coloured fairy lights strobe in Gavin’s vision, dancing and blurring in front of him. “What’ya talkin’ about?” he gasps, already half giggling in anticipation.

“You’re the beer baron,” is the reply, one American accent amongst a few dozen others at the party, unrecognisable to Gavin in his inebriated state.

“You what?” He glances around, seeing a few people standing in a loose circle, grinning at him. He realises the string is now lax in his hand, and pulls it experimentally. It tugs, and Gavin finally sees what the other end is attached to.

“Did you... Am I tied to the bevs?”

The group surrounding him sniggers and chuckles. One person’s hand grabs the midway point of Gavin’s string. “Not tied. You are... entrusted, to protect and guard this kegger as it moves throughout this event,” Miles explains, pulling the string so Gavin is forced to move toward him or be choked again.

“Good boy!” Miles grins at him, and his tone of voice is as though he were speaking to a dog. The surrounding group erupts into laughter once more, dissipating back into the party to leave Gavin standing alone, his eyebrows furrowed in total confusion as he stares at the string contraption.

Either he is a lot more drunk than he originally thought, or that’s a dog leash wrapped around the keg tap.

 

***

 

It’s a couple of hours and a lot more beers later, and everyone is thoroughly enjoying abusing Gavin. Some just order him to pour their drink for them, others take pleasure in forcing him to drink it himself. The “extendo” part of the extendo-leash has been eliminated after someone jammed a bobby pin in it, so Gavin currently has a radius of approximately two feet from the keg.

He’s sitting at an outdoor table with the keg in his lap when he hears a chair scrape the ground as it’s dragged up beside him. He doesn’t open his eyes quite yet, still revelling in hugging the keg to his chest in peace. Him and the keg have become close in their time spent tied together tonight. He enjoys the cool, heavy weight of its presence constantly at his side, with the added bonus of providing him with alcohol on demand. Gavin is aware that there’s only about two glasses of beer left however, and hasn’t let anyone drink from it in the last twenty minutes, grumbling nonsense and drunkenly swatting his hands whenever anyone attempts to take it from him.

“You still guarding that thing?”

Michael’s voice sounds gently slurred to Gavin’s ears. He wants to open his eyes to check if Michael looks drunk too, but finds that he’s forgotten how to.

Instead he mumbles “‘S my keg” into his arm resting across the top of the barrell. He manages to turn his face toward the direction of Michael’s voice, mushing his nose in the process. He finally gets his eyes open to see Michael smirking at him, beer bottle in one hand.

“Whose idea was this anyway?” Michael asks, reaching out his other hand to touch the string, now hanging loosely from Gavin’s shirt. He rolls it between his fingers, lightly tugging it downward. Gavin instinctively hunches down further to accommodate it as it pulls snug against his neck.

“A leash. That’s pretty kinky shit.” Michael pauses to consider something. “I bet a lot of people on the internet would pay good money to see this,” he continues casually, and Gavin can’t tell if he’s joking or making a business proposition. So he scoffs and buries his face back into his arm in reply.

“Why don’t you just take it off?” Michael asks.

Gavin chooses to remain nose-first smushed into his own forearm. He can’t even muster up the muscle control he needs to shrug at Michael’s question. It’s quiet for a minute, and Gavin thinks he might even be able to fall asleep if Michael doesn’t start talking again. There’s a low buzz and the sound of rap music emanating from the direction of the kitchen, where most of the party has moved to, but the glass door to the back garden is still slid half open.

“It’s kind of hot,” Michael blurts out.

Gavin dramatically lifts his head as slowly as possible from his arm and squints at Michael. “No homo?”

Michael lifts a hand to inspect the condition of Gavin’s shirt collar (not good), and then looks back at Gavin nonchalantly and seemingly unembarrassed. “... A little.”

Gavin just stares at him, expressionless, trying to figure out the joke. He gives up and drops his head back onto his arm instead, in defeat this time. He can hear Michael’s muffled laughing, but ignores it until he is abruptly torn away from the comfort of his arm-pillow. He is suddenly face to face with Michael, who is looking at him much like Gavin was previously looking at the kegger. Gavin almost immediately pulls away as far the string will let him, but Michael has a tight hold on the leash and merely laughs at Gavin’s attempts to escape. He thoughtfully has a grip on the loop of the string though, preventing it from constricting Gavin’s neck completely.

“Come on Gavin, don’t tell me you never got wild one night? Brought home this average lookin’ chick and it turned out that she had handcuffs and daddy issues?” Gavin feels the weight of the kegger lifted from his knees, and hears it placed back down on the ground somewhere nearby. “One time I had this girl, a total sweetheart, girl-next-door type - she was brunette, long legs...” Gavin impatiently tries to pull back to look Michael in the eye and ask him what the hell is going on, but quickly stops when Michael loosens his grip on the loop and the string starts tightening on his neck again.

“And when I got her back to my apartment I sweet talked her, kissed her, touched her in all the right places. Like no one had ever thought to before, like she never knew she wanted... She was practically begging me, man. So I made her beg. She got down on her sweet little knees and begged me. To have someone else relinquish that kind of control to you, to be involved in that kind of power play...” Gavin is taken by surprise when Michael pulls the leash back up, bringing Gavin with it.

He looks up to see Michael smiling knowingly at him, probably misinterpreting the redness that Gavin can feel showing on his cheeks. But that flush is from exerting effort against Michael, nothing else. “You should try it.” It’s quiet for a second while they just watch each other, Michael with an amused expression, Gavin with his lips parted and brows furrowed.

“What the fuck are you two homos doing out there?” Ray calls from the doorway, breaking the moment. Gavin’s head snaps around, almost embarrassed to be caught. But he wasn't even the one doing anything, so why should he be embarrassed?

Michael abandons his seat immediately, jogging toward the door where Ray is still standing. “Just fucking with Gavin's head,” Gavin hears him respond brightly, slapping Ray's shoulder as he passes him to head back into the party.

Gavin remains seated while waiting for the heat in his cheeks to subside, and desperately tries to ignore the irony of him removing a dog leash when he’s growling so hard under his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure even the world's best beta could salvage this, but I guess we'll never know because - as usual - this is unbeta'd. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.


End file.
